“Yeah.” Gray grimaces. “And from what I gather, it did not go well. The doctors ended up banning them all from your room.”

“Vera must hate me.”

“Actually, your night nurse said she was mostly ripping into Dad. I guess it got pretty vicious.”

“Was Peak here?” I ask, because it doesn’t make any sense that she isn’t now.

Gray hesitates and then nods. “She stopped by when she was discharged. You were asleep.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“What matters is that you’re here and you’re okay. And we need to focus on getting you better right now. You—”

“Gray, just tell me. Whatever I’m imagining is probably so much worse.” I’m so tired, but I can already feel the adrenaline kicking up.

tellmetellmetellme

“It’s doesn’t matter.”

“What did she say?” The heart monitor starts beeping faster and faster; Gray stares at it, looking worried.

“All right.” She shakes her head. “But you have to calm down.”

“That’s not how it works,” I say through gritted teeth. “Just tell me.”

Gray bites her lip, smoothing her skirt before looking back up at me. “She said she didn’t know it was possible to love someone and hate them at the same time.”

Oh.

I thought the staples in my head hurt, but this.

This.

“She was just upset, Ridley. People say weird things when they’re in pain. Her arm—”

“Her arm?”

“I mean, I don’t know the specifics or anything, but it was in a sling and her wrist was wrapped.”

“Which arm?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Think!” I shout. “Which arm? Right or left?”

“Left, I think.” Gray closes her eyes, tilting her head back. “No. No, right. Definitely her right arm.”

“Her audition is so soon.” I’m going to be sick. Gray grabs the pan near my bed and shoves it under my face just in time. I’ve texted her so many clips of Peak playing, and we’ve had so many conversations about how important the audition is. She knows exactly what this means.

“Maybe they’ll give her an extension,” Gray says, rubbing my back while I try to get a grip. It turns out throwing up with broken ribs really fucking hurts.

“It’s competitive,” I groan when I can finally talk again. “Hundreds of applicants for eight spots. What do you think?”

“I think it sucks, but it could be worse. You guys could have been killed; you realize that, right?” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Let’s just all be glad it wasn’t worse.” She stares down at her coffee. “I think you’re getting a ticket for driving without a license, but the other driver was speeding and had drugs in his car, so you got lucky.”

I look at her and crinkle my forehead, which tugs at the bandage in an uncomfortable way, because seriously? Lucky?